The Dragonborn Comes
by DanikaHawke
Summary: Dragons have plagued not only Skyrim, but all of Tamriel. Ulfric and Balgruuf join forces with some other Jarls to control the North provinces as everything fell, to keep people safe from the South, the True Rebels, and most of all, Dragons. When the Dovahkiin stepped through the portal, was she too late to save Tamriel?
1. Chapter 1

Ulfric Stormcloak paced silently in a damp cave where he and his soldiers hid. Some torches were lit, casting a low light along the thin creek which split the cave in half. Chased again into hiding, like mice from a cat, from the damned creatures that roamed the skies. Ulfric could hear the winged beasts swarm overhead, at least three of them. He could hear them shouting in their wretched language, as if they were taunting him and his soldiers. Dragons had first plagued the province of Skyrim, and eventually burned down all of Tamriel.

Lost in his anger, Ulfric tightened his fist into a ball and struck the stone wall of the cave. Behind him, one of his captains called to him.

'Ulfric, my lord. Are you all right?' The man's name was Ralof, and he had fought for Ulfric as he overtook the empire, and became High King of Skyrim. He followed Ulfric almost blindly into battle, and wherever else he may had gone. Ulfric and his army, the Stormcloaks, struck the Imperial soldiers of the Empire down like pigeons with a rock, but it seems it was all for not. Merely weeks after Ulfric was crowned High King, the first dragon attack had turned a small town, Helgen, into ash.

Ulfric turned to the boy, his chest heaving with a deep sigh. 'I am,' he spoke quietly, as if he may have been trying to convince himself he was, indeed calm. 'I need some water,' he said dismissively, with a wave of his hand. He may no longer have been King, but his followers were loyal until the end.

The armies had travelled from the Westernmost part of Tamriel, from what used to be the province of High Rock, then to Hammerfell and Skyrim, creating order among the people. Unease has risen for some time now. Every city now reduced to half of what they used to be, with crops burned and building felled. People tried to rebuild often, only to have a dragon swoop down and take it from them again.

Not soon after Ulfric had sent Ralof away, his right hand, Galmar Stone-Fist came rushing back into the cave, after scouting ahead.

'There are many dragons in the skies,' he said, his voice hoarse. He was a stout man, heavily armoured in chainmail and the traditional Stormcloak garb; A hide dyed blue, with the silhouette of a bear on the chest. the same armour all the Stormcloaks wore.

'How many?' Ulfric asked. Silence well over the cave.

'There are... Many,' Galmar paused to catch his breath. The shadows cast onto his face from his steel helm did little to hide the dark circles of fatigue under his eyes, and his alreay worn face looked even more tired, still. 'There are too many for us all to sneak by. Some circle in the skies, but others lay in wait beyond the hills, and in the moutnains.'

Ulfric sighed deeply, folded his arms across his chest. 'We will remain here for the night,' he raised his voice, so all the soldiers may hear him. 'The moment the last dragon flies, we will head East and make camp at High Hrothgar.' He ordered his men to prepare for the night, to set a fire deeper within the cave and to spread the hides for their make-shift beds. Some were ordered to prepare a meal of the limited food they had left, and he took two men to the opening of the cave with him to stand watch. Galmar tried to follow, but Ulfric would not allow it.

'I will stay by your side, my King,' he said.

'I have no need for a tired guard, Galmar,' Ulfric said lightly, as he placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Sleep now, and watch over me should I have a chance to sleep later in the night.'

Galmar pursed his lips, wanting to fight back, but he knew he was far too tired to stay awake much longer. He nodded, and turned back into the cave.

Silently, Ulfric, Ralof and a young woman stood by the opening of the cave. As a precaution they did not light any torches, but the moon shone bright enough that they could see the dragons clear as day.

'My father used to call moons like this, the Hunter's Moon,' the young girl said in almost a whisper.

'It signifies the harvest, and that winter comes,' Ralof nodded, offering her a smile.

Though she was new to join the ranks of the Stormcloaks, she felt much safer as she travelled around, rather then when she stayed in hiding in the mountains of High Rock. 'It was always my favourite time of year.'

Another silence fell over them for some time as the moon crawled across the sky. One by one the dragons flew away, seemingly unwilling to wait for their prey. Finally, Ralof spoke.

'Balgruuf should be arriving shortly, if he has not already made it to High Hrothgar.'

Ulfric nodded. 'Let us hope.'

Just beyond the view of the cave, in a cluster of mountains, lay High Hrothgar at the top of the highest rock. It previously served at the home for the Greybeards, a small group of men who studied, and lived by the rulings of the Way of the Voice. Their studies and endless meditation allowed them to speak as the dragons do, to use their language to expel fire or frost with their mouths alone. They could call thunder and lightening to their aid, or even summon a dragon from across the province, though no one was foolish enough to call on one of them, regardless of which side they fought for. The line which separated the allied and foe dragons grew fainter with each passing day as Alduin gained power of each dragon clan. Whether it be of fear or trust, the dragons were loyal to the first born. Their brother.

Balgruuf, and what remained of his personal guard, had been waiting in High Hrothgar for Ulfric. They sat in what could have been used as a place to meet before hand, with a table in the shape of a half circle. In the middle of this circle they lit a fire, their only source of warmth within the stone walls of the Greybeards' santuary. While the men spoke, Balgruuf sat silently, and stared at the skull of a dragon mounted on the wall across from him. Around it, etched into the wall, was the story of Alduin's first appearance in Skyrim. The battle with the dragons started, and ended in Skyrim. In that time, they were lucky to have men and women known as the Tongues who, like the Greybeards, could speak as the dragons do. it was said they created their own thu'um, words of power used in the Voice, that could pluck a dragon from the sky so they may slay it. No men or women such as these lived anymore, as no one ever believed the dragons would return after Alduin was cast away. Each thu'um contained three words, and each word could take two years to learn. Rumors spread of men and women who had been seen using the thu'um against the dragons, but Balgruuf had yet to see it.

With a quick glance out the window, Balgruuf knew the sun was rising. The sleeping soldiers had begun to stir, and readying themselves for what could be another long day of waiting. Balgruuf could hear someone approach, but he did not have to turn around to know who it was. Irileth, his old friend and housecarl from when he served as Jarl of Whiterun, sighed behind him, and he could feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.

'My lord, we cannot wait another day. We must move on. We have sat here for nearly two days, and Ulfric has not yet come.'

Balgruuf stood from his seat, guided her away from the table so their conversation would not be over heard. 'Irileth, I cannot leave until I hear something, anything, of where Ulfric is.'

'And why do you owe him the loyalty? Remember it was him who tore you from your throne, before the dragons burned your city down.' Her voice was harsh, as were most of the voices dark elves. Just as well, she had dark grey skin, red eyes, and black hair which fell sloppily around her shoulders. Her cheekbones were high, and ears pointed, and she stood with much pride. If anyone else had said such a thing to Balgruuf, he would have drawn a dagger to their necks. However it was Irileth who stood before him, with uncharacteristically unkempt hair and tired eyes, and he could not help but crack a smile.

'You may be full of vengeance Irileth, but right now I cannot be. I see no reason to hold a grudge from a life I no longer live.'

'My lord,' she began to raise her voice, but drew in a deep breath to calm herself. 'We cannot lay down and die of sheer boredom when the threat still remains. And Ulfric-'

'Like it or not, my dear, Ulfric is my brother in arms, and he is yours. He may have betrayed me in the past, but he is good to me now, and to us all,' he paused as he brushed some of her wirey hair from her face. 'Nothing brings two nords together like a war, when we fight on the same side.'

Irileth nodded, then excused herself. He sat at the table to have her share of the stew which boiled over the fire, but Ulfric remained a moment longer. He watched the soldiers around him, eating and conversing as if there were no such thing as dragons flying about. However no matter how much they wished and prayed for it not to be true, nothing could save them from the dragons. The gods were no longer listening.

Later in the morning, the sun high in the sky, Balgruuf sat with two of his guards, a man and wife. They previously came from the College of Winterhold, a school in which they would learn all sorts of magics and history. They took this chance to tell Balgruuf all they knew about Alduin, while they had some time to rest.

'Alduin is referred to as the World Eater, because it is his fate to destroy all of Nirn,' Sa'thra said, quietly. She looked to her husband, a high elf who served under the Arch Mage of the college. Unlike Irileth, he had a pale yellow complexion, yellow eyes and white hair. High elves are the tallest of all elven kind, who are taller still then Nords like Balgruuf. And so he towered over his little wife, a Brenton from Cyrodil. She seemed to have tanned skin at all time, despite how little sun actually touched Skyrim. 'Alduin was the first born of Akatosh, whom we see as the Dragon God of Time.'

'Some would say he is the most insatiable of all dragon kind,' the elf said. 'He has been known to travel into Sovngarde to devour souls, and use them to make him stronger.'

Balgruuf shifted in his chair, his jaw tightening. 'Is that even possible?'

'It has been witnessed, Ser,' the elf said.

Balgruuf nodded, and waited for them to continue. 'From what I know, Alduin was not actually killed. He is Akatosh's greatest accomplishment, really,' Sa'thra said, shaking her head. 'If you thought other dragons might be difficult to kill... Well. They are child's play compared to what Alduin is rumoured to be.'

'How so?'

'Well, Alduin is unique, in that he is the first. As the first, he is the most powerful, and likely the closest to Akatosh's likeness. And when the Three Champions defeated him, he did not die. He was simply cast away in time, until he resurfaced here.'

Balgruuf narrowed his eyes at the woman. 'I'm not understanding what you mean. They used a spell?'

'Actually, an Elder Scroll.'

Balgruuf was stunned silent. There were many things he needed to know, but before he could even form a question, one of his guardsmen came running into the library where the three of them sat.

'Balgruuf, sir! Ulfric and is men come!'

Balgruuf stood from his seat and ran out of the library. He gathered all the men he could on the way, demanding they take their swords along with them, but also to prepare to aid their injured. He waited For his guardsmen to pool in the main hall before the great doors of the sanctuary before he marched outside. He and his men waited int he courtyard in a block formation, and soon after Ulfric and his party arrived.

The Stormcloaks at first seemed calm. However when they came into sight, the rushing winds which whipped around the mountain brought the sound of their shouting. Balgruuf could see they brandished their swords and bows, and ordered his men to do the same.

'Ready yourselves!' he shouted.

Balgruuf pulled out a sword made of steel, with a hilt in the shape of a wolf's head. He could almost already hear Irileth scolding him for trusting Ulfric, but instead her voice carried over the commotion.

'Run! Everyone get inside!' She yelled, grasping at the guards around her, pushing them toward the door. Balgruuf looked at her in confusion, watching her as she told the Stormcloaks to run faster into safety, when he then followed her line of sight to the peak of the mountain. He then saw what he could not hear over the wind.

A bright, white light thrashed about against the pale blue sky. The light seemed to have no direction, but instead swirled into itself before dissipating into the sky. The ground began to quake, small rocks falling from hight up in the mountain, and Balgruuf finally decided to run. Before he could take another two steps, a final burst of white light blanketed the mountain, and knocked him, as well as everyone else left inside, off their feet. The world around him faded, but before it went dark he hard the scream of a woman, though it echoed like a dragon.

When Balgruuf awoke, he found himself back inside of the meeting room with a fire, surrounded by other who still lay unconscious. There were men and women who tended to those that slept, and beside him sat Ulfric.

'So you're finally awake,' Ulfric said to him, a slight chuckle in his voice.

When Balgruuf tried to sit up, he was hit with a wave of pain. His core was sore, breathing laboured, and head still cloudy from the fall. 'What in Sovngarde just happened?'

Ulfric shrugged his shoulder, reaching for a cup beside him. 'Your guess is as good as mine. But your scholars tell me that may have been the portal where Alduin came through.'

'Here? But...'

'I haven't a clue. They said they were just speaking to you about how the Three Champions cast him adrift into the sea of time, and he surfaced here. Some speculate that he came through a portal they call the Time Wound.'

'And this Time Wound is on top of this mountain?'

Ulfric nodded, taking a healthy swig of water from his cup. 'I love the water up here. It's always so cold,' he said quietly to himself.

Balgruuf looked at him with narrow eyes. He sat himself up to look at Ulfric fighting the pain that shot through his chest.

'Anyway, I know what you are thinking. I am unsure of why the portal would open, if Alduin has not left, and all the dragons have been raised. Well, at least the dragons who were buried with their heads.'

'Are you all right?' He asked Ulfric after a moment of quiet. Ulfric simply nodded but said nothing.

Balgruuf nodded, scooting himself up against the wall. He could see Ulfric from the side of his eyes, but fought to not look at him. Despite their history, he did not feel uneasy next to this man. Sometimes, he would go so far as almost think of him as a brother. Both were Nords, Jarls of their own holds, with similarly blond hair and light eyes. As with most Nords, they both shared a wide, robust frame. There was a time when Balgruuf would confide in Ulfric alone, until the day he marched his Stormcloaks on Whiterun, after he chose to side with the Imperials. Yet despite the similarity between them, they looked nothing alike. They could not have been more different from each other. They may be brothers in war, but they did not fight for the same reasons.

After some silence, Sa'thra approached the two men, roused them from their sleep. 'My lords,' She said quietly, with a book in her arms. 'I believe I know what came through the portal.'


	2. Chapter 2

The South of Tamriel was riddled with thieves, whores and sell swords. Unlike the North, they had little order. Though Emperor Titus Mede II claimed to have power over the lands, he was no longer the emperor, with no provinces to speak of, and he had little to no say in what his guards or armies did. Cities were attacked and conquered by the Forsworn, or the True Rebels as some had taken to calling them. War raged on from the East coast to the West. Of the lower three Provinces, Valenwood, Elsweyr and Black Marsh, Titus controlled Black Marsh of the West alone. He maintained an uneasy partnership with the elves of Valenwood, and sent half his army to the East to maintain said partnership. In the middle, Elsweyr, was where the Forsworn lay in wait. They grew their forces here, taking advantage of being able to stop Titus Mede's men from crossing back into the Black Marsh. They were lucky to get a raven over the Forsworn territory more often than not. Titus Mede stayed hidden in the tallest spire of a mostly toppled castle in Black Rose, of Black Marsh. It was the Southernmost city which still stood, and it was mostly surrounded by wide marshes and thick forests. The castle was large enough to house his personal guard, leaving the rest of Black Marsh to be occupies by his armies, and the remaining citizens. 'Mede is an old man, and a fool. He cannot hope to gain control of Elsweyr over the rebels,' Captain Holdin Red-Steel muttered, arms folded and leaned against the wall. He and his brother, Holfgar, stood guard before the spire where Titus slept. Holdin could see the night's sky from a large window before him, and wished he could be out with his men. Nighttime in the Black marsh was a dangerous place, riddled with rebel rogues, and the occasional dragon.  
'He is no fool, little brother,' Holfgar said, quietly. 'Speak lightly, these halls echo.'  
Holdin looked to his brother, and frowned. Everything about them was quite different; His brother has black hair while his was blonde. His brother was a man of education, while he a man of the brother was the bastard son of an affair his father had with a Brenton woman, who died giving birth to him. They were quite different, indeed. 'Let the old man hear me, I don't care!' Holdin exclaimed, kicking the ground. 'I am tired of playing watch dog, while my men take up arms without me.'  
'they are no longer your men, Holdin. they remain in Mede's army, while you are his royal guard.'  
Holdin scoffed. 'I would have never accepted this position if I had known I would be standing around all day and night.' he stepped forward and struck the wall with his fist. The pain sent a shock from his hand to his elbow and shoulder, but he didn't care.  
'Funny, I took it for that very reason,' Holfgar grinned, watching his brother cradle his wrist. 'I wish you would remain silent. It will not be long until the sun rises, and we have a day of rest.' Holgar paused, amused by the anger on his brother's face. 'Standing around is awful tiresome, after all.' 'Jest all you'd like, brother, but this is not the life that was meant for me. For either of us.' Holdin folded his arms, and resumed his position against the wall. 'And what might that be, my little brother?' 'I was meant to fight, and you...' Holdin hesitated, casting a side glance to Holfgar. 'you I suppose were meant to sit in the College and practice magic all day. That's what Brentons do, isn't it?'  
Holfgar turned to his brother. There were many things he wanted to say, hateful things, but this is not the first time this conversation had been brought up. Usually, it ended in them fighting about how wrong magic was, how pointless war was, and how they both hated what the other stood for. 'Silence now. You'll wake the foolish old man.'  
At the top of the spire, Titus Mede listened at the door. A fool? Is that what people truly thought? If it was action the men wanted, then he would grant it to them. SIlently, he shut the door his his chambers and cross the room to his writing desk. To the west of Black Marsh, on the opposite coast, lay Valenwood. Titus Mede II's most trusted ally, Paragond, riled the few armies that swore their allegience to Mede. He, and his men, lived hin a city which sat in trees, and of wood and connected by bridges. They lived as the Bosmer used to live; Proud elves of the woods, fierce hunters with poisoned arrows. He stayed with his wife, of whom he was quite fond if, in the main house. They sat quietly at the meal table within their chamber, waiting for the chambermaid to clean the plates off. The low light of the candles made her light brown skin look excuisite. He touched her hand and wrist, skin soft as silk, and warmed by the fire in the hearth. 'Titus sent me an owl today,' he said carefully. His wife's hatred of the man made it difficult for him to speak of his work. She scowled at him, and turned to look at the fire. 'Dondre, please. I know you don't like the man, but he is the only reason we are alive this day.'  
'Indeed, but I don't have to like him,' she said, and placed her hand back into her lap. She glanced to the thin curtains at the opening of the room, seeing the shoulders of the guards on either side of the frame. Like most guards who watched over them, they were Nords. 'What does he want?'  
'He wishes for is to make an attack on the Forsworn,' he spoke in a whisper.  
Dondre sighed, and dropped her head. 'Has he gone mad?' Paragond laughed quietly. 'Was there ever a time when he was not?' he paused, and watched her resist a grin. 'He says his men grow tired, and he fears they no longer wish to follow him. That they see him as weak.'  
'So, his answer is to attack the rebels? Why does he not send his own men into Elsweyr?'  
'You know he wants nothing to do with the Beast Kind.'  
'And yet, we are as different from his kind, the Nords, as the cats are.' Admittedly, Dondre was not a fan of the beast men. The Khajit looked like a man fucked a cat, and came out a man-sized cat that could stand on two legs, with the worst traits of both races-the greed of men and the deceit of felines. The Argonians were no better. They were a cruel mix of a man and reptile, with the wit of a brick. However, there were no better sailors, especially since they could breathe under water.  
'I had the seamstress make me a new dress today,' Dondre said lightly.  
Paragond sighed as she stood from the table. 'You wont distract me from what I need to say.'  
'Very well then,' she said, a grin spreading across her face. 'Watch me while you speak.'  
Paragons laughed to himself, and watched her as she slipped out of her armor. She dropped it on the floor, which she knew irritated Paragond as he had it made and dyed specifically to her wishes. The dark green and brown leather matched her skin and eyes, with the sigil of their once royal family, the spider. He ignored the careless manner in which she handled her gear, as she stood before him naked. Her skin glistened in the dull light of the candles with sweat. He sighed to himself, folding his arms as she looked to him over her shoulder, a coy grin spread across her lips. 'He wishes for us to spread out our territories, and take the provinces back,' Paragons pushed forward, despite his wife's clear intentions to distract him. He watched her saunter over to a small chest hear their bed, and bend down to open it. 'He mentioned nothing of the Khajit, but I imagine he intends on buying their loyalties. Gold is the only thing they are interested in.'  
'Interesting. But you never did have a very good imagination,' Dondre cooed at him, pulling out her dress. It was bright yellow, like the sun of springtime, the fabric sheer and light. As she picked it up and held it by the leather band meant to wrap around her neck, it bellowed by her side. Paragond nodded in approval as he studied her naked body. However he forced himself to stay on topic. 'Mede also stated he intented on-'  
'Why is it he wants the Black Marsh?' Dondre questioned him. Paragond shrugged, leaned back in his chair. 'Perhaps it is a better place to mount an attack. But it is more likely that he has noticed the dragons favour the colder weather. In a place like Black Marsh he can invade Elsewyr, where there are hardly any of them. It has always been easy to hide in the Marsh.'  
Dondre scoffed. 'He is quite good at hiding.' She spat the words out like poison as she pulled her dress over her head, and she then let down her hair. Unlike most elven kind, the Bosmer were blessed with soft, curly hair. It fell in golden brown ripples down her back, and she swept it all over one shoulder. Paragond shook his head. 'You are being awfully cruel, my heart.' Dondre simply nodded to him, knowing full well that the dress was nearly completely see through. 'Regardless, I still feel it would be smart to take back the Province from the Forsworn, and deal with the dragons as they come.'  
'If it was so easy, don't you think we should have done this a long time ago?' Dondre spoke lightly as she looked upon herself in the dress, but Paragons could feel her irritation. 'Have you forgotten something important?'  
'Yes my heart, the Forsworn did once greatly outnumber us, but with the help of the nords, we can force them out.' 'And then what? The moment the dragons catch wind of any organization of military against the forsworn, they will descend upon us as they did to the armies of the North! They will burn everything into Oblivion, again!' 'I will take my chances. We can be discreet,' Paragons said as he stood from his seat, headed to the writing table. As he picked up the quill, he turned back to his wife. 'I will write to Titus and inform him of my decision, with or without your support. I will be taking back the province.'  
'Is that wise?' She asked him, hoping he may reconsider.  
'Yes, my sweet, it is. The South Coast is already we will march on Elder Root and will cut our way North to Arenthia.'  
By the time Paragond's letter reached Titus, he had already moved his armies eastward toward Soulrest of the Black Marsh. He paced silently in his private spire, cursing himself for his cowardliness. Sitting quietly in his bed was a woman whom he had purchased, and she listened to him rant.  
'The battlefield is no place for an Emperor like yourself, Ser,' she said lightly, looking down to her hands. 'Like myself? What is it exactly that you mean?' He turned back to look at the young girl, furious. The girl stumbled over her words, but Titus continued speaking. 'Is it because I am old? Do I seem weak to you? The girl looked up to him, and shook his head. He wanted to his her, but felt tired of defending himself on the same subject. 'You and all the others are always whispering behind my back, I know. Alwats calling me man, an old fat fool. I'd like to see how you'd fare after your empire has fallen!' he spat the words out of his mouth as he pushed the girl flat on the bed. She whimpered, but fif not refuse or fight him. She did not complain when he tore off her clothing, or forced her legs apart. Not another whimper passed through her lips the night, not even as he forcefully entered her. She waited silently until he would finish inside of her, plant his seed and then choke on the poisoned wine she had set out for him. 


End file.
